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Depot-14: The Boy From Hen

Copyright 2017 by J.J. Mainor

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Author’s Notes

Also By J.J. Mainor

Chapter 1

Jakarta could do nothing about the infestation aboard Supply Depot-14 but stand and watch. Her buddy Colton was already on his way to the surface of Durango in their personal scout craft seeking a solution, leaving her with his kid brother. Even with the spare hands Tucker provided her, she was powerless to act against the threat.

Humanist protestors, more than she cared to count, had taken over the mess level, sitting, and chanting their slogans and shouting at her and the boy with their silly arguments. With the courage of the crowd, a couple of them dared to approach Jakarta and hurl accusations they wouldn’t dare make without the support behind them.

“Killing is murder!”

“You should be ashamed of yourself!”

Jakarta might have been angered into doing something she would regret had the depot not been in a slow time. There were no passengers to annoy and no business coming and going that these silly people might frighten off. Their efforts were poorly timed, and because of that, Jakarta found these fools more amusing than she should have.

The young man calling her a murderer was barely of legal age, and he was certainly a small fellow. Even Tucker didn’t overlook the fact that at thirteen Durango years old, he stood eye-level with him. The young woman beside him was smaller still, as if the pair had come from some super-high gravity world the stationmaster was not aware of.

As soon as their accusations were made, they retreated back to the collective to disappear into the anonymity once more.

“Isn’t there anythin’ we can do, Jackie?” Tucker asked, not sharing in her private amusement.

“Bottom line, we’re runnin’ a business,” she told the boy. “Everythin’ below the maintenance level is technically public space. ’Cording to the constable, there’s nothin’ we can do unless they pose a direct threat or break any of the laws.”

“Then we can shoot ‘em, right?” Tucker asked as if it were a normal thing.

Jakarta found it a humorous thought if a dangerous one for the boy to nurture. It certainly wasn’t the attitude Colton raised him with, but then this wasn’t the time to correct him, nor was she willing to give these protestors any credibility by doing it in front of them.

Thankfully for her, these protestors were professionals. They knew the law, would dare its wrath by walking the thin edge, but keep themselves just safe enough to cover their rears. Every one of them was young with no real job to take up their time. Most if not all of them still lived with their families, milking the labors of their parents for survival, allowing them to have the fun before them. Not even the criminals whose rights they argued for had the time for this.

“Your brother’s down with Rafe tryin’ to get him to do somethin’, but they’ll get bored and go home when naptime comes.”

Tucker couldn’t stifle a laugh even though they both knew no one was leaving for another twenty or so hours when the next day’s commuter shuttle was scheduled to arrive. Jakarta quietly thought this might get interesting when the day dragged on and these people realized they weren’t getting a free ride as far as food and water went. They were sure to be cranky before the current day was done, and things were sure to get interesting by then.

Yet, they didn’t have to wait for interesting. The station shuddered ever so slightly. It was the familiar shockwave spreading throughout that large metal tube whenever a ship docked. There were tiny positional thrusters to keep the station oriented whenever a docking occurred, and the artificial gravity acted as inertial dampeners to prevent disruptions, but it was not perfect. Jakarta and Colton had owned the station for almost a year and a half, and in all that time, they grew accustom to all the little rattles and hums familiar with these stations. The shudder itself wasn’t alarming; it was the fact there had been no warning of a ship’s arrival that meant trouble.

“I need you to stay here and make sure no one leaves this room!” she ordered an unwilling Tucker.

“C’mon, Jackie! Let me help.”

He knew as well as she did what the ship meant. It was possible they were in trouble and their communications had been knocked out, but such disaster scenarios were so rare as to make it almost ridiculous to consider, especially when these kinds of sneak-arrivals preceded a boarding party of outlaws looking to conduct a hit-and-run raid.

“Your brother would kill me!”

“He doesn’t have to know,” the boy begged. “Besides, he’s away and you need the backup.”

Jakarta hated herself for thinking about it, worse, she thought about it longer than she should have. Instead of refusing, she found herself agreeing with the boy. Tucker could be a little too excited whenever there was action around, too ready to throw himself into danger, and still, he was right that she needed some support in case there were too many to come from that ship.

“Okay,” she relented. “But you do what I tell you without question.”

“I will,” he told her, a little too eager for her liking.

“You do not get any ideas, and if this goes bad, you stay hidden until your brother returns.”

“I promise! I’ll do what you say.”

She considered him with further skepticism before pushing through the crowd of protestors to get behind the lunch counter. Through the incoherent shouts of the crowd, she found the pair of rifles she and Colton kept hidden at the back of a particular cabinet for emergencies. The protestors caught sight and their chants fell into uniformity with cries of “killer” and “murderer.”

Another barely-legal young woman followed her back to Tucker, shouting her down as the second rifle passed into the boy’s hands.

“Violence begets violence!” she shouted as if she truly understood what that meant beyond the few lines of propaganda from the Humanist Handbook. “Escalation breeds the very crime you want to fight!”

“You have me wrong, she teased. “I’m not goin’ down there to stop anyone. I’m goin’ to bring them up here so they can rob and kill you all.”

The poor protestor wasn’t trained for such a response, and Jakarta left her dumbfounded and searching for a comeback. Then she closed the emergency hatch between those people and the access ladder, and engaged the security seals locking them in.

Tucker tried to descend the ladder first, but she grabbed his shoulder and held him while she went first.

“I thought I told you to do what I said,” she scolded, dropping down and taking a position on the uppermost of the storage levels in the massive cargo hold.

Jakarta pulled the boy behind a pallet of dried vegetable pouches and forced him into a crouching position. From there, he had a line of sight on the airlock while keeping the cover the freight offered.

“You will stay here and cover the exit in case anybody gets by me,” she told him.

“But they can’t go anywhere else with the security seals in place,” he complained.

“What did I tell you? You of all people know those security seals ain’t foolproof,” she scolded once more, referring to his habit of figuring out Colton’s codes and sneaking around whenever trouble brewed before.

She didn’t give him a chance to protest further. Jakarta dropped down to the base of the hold and took a position beside some crates of valve seals and power insulators, watching the airlock and waiting for something to happen. The tiny panel on the floor beside that access point was flashing green from the moment she first entered that chamber, signaling a seal had already been made; however the hatch remained closed. Whoever was inside the ship was in no rush to come aboard, and it made the young woman nervous.

Minutes passed like hours with no change, and Jakarta ventured from her position, regretting the decision she arrived at. When she reached the hatch, she crouched down. Freeing one hand from the rifle, she released the seal and brought the massive hatch open. Almost instantly, smoke flooded out and into the station. Had the environmental systems not been wired to handle such pollution, she might have been worried about the air quality. Instead, those capabilities allowed her to worry about whatever crew was aboard and in danger.

“Tuck! Get down here! They’re in trouble!”

The boy threw his rifle over his shoulder for the descent, and Jakarta missed the disappointment he faced for the lack of an exciting gun battle. Still, the hazard inside didn’t preclude the possibility of such trouble. When the smoke thinned and Jakarta climbed inside, she knew almost straightaway this wasn’t a passenger ship or some sort of courier vessel. It was too small to be anything but a raider.

Most raiders were in the hands of the military, but they were a favorite for the criminals who could afford them and get their hands on one. The raiders were the only ships designed with weapons, and that made them just as lethal as the criminals who operated them.

Jakarta hoped this one was a legitimate Army ship. The nearest base was on the largest moon of the planet Hen, orbiting the same star as Durango, passing within sixty million kilometers of Jakarta’s world at the closest point. The two worlds hadn’t reached that point yet, but they were close enough for the Hennites to cross the void and cause trouble. That meant it was within the realm of possibility for this to be an Army raider, damaged in an ambush, requiring too much help to return home.

The young stationmaster didn’t see any indication this was military, but she was sold on the idea so badly, she dropped her rifle as she pushed through the cabin on the way to the cramped cockpit. Tucker dropped in behind her, distracting her as she reached that particular hatch.

“What d’ya s’pose happened?” he asked as if she already had the answers in the brief time she had to explore.

“I’d say they were attacked,” she said, placing her hand on the door and flinging it open. Another blast of smoke poured out, forcing her to turn away while it cleared out and up into her station. Her eyes fell on a first aid kit strapped over a bench and she pointed the thing out to the boy. “Grab that, would you? Someone’s sure to need it.”

By the time Tucker brought it to her, the smoke was thin enough for her to venture in. Four seats identified the stations an army squad would occupy, but they were strangely empty.

“Where are they?” Tucker asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” she mused, finding it just as odd as he did. Then she caught movement on the floor around the forward most set of chairs. “There’s somethin’ up here,” she called, rushing forward, and dropping to one knee.”

The movement was not human. A grayish, translucent creature lay on the floor, its body a flattened, almost rectangular mass with five appendages and a space where a sixth once fit. Jakarta instantly jumped back toward her feet and trained her rifle on the creature.

Tucker pushed forward for a look despite her attempts to order him back.

“What is it?” he asked, uncertain if it was curiosity or fear driving the question.

“That,” she told him, knowing in her heart fear was her driving force, “is a Hennite!”

Chapter 2

The creature was small for a Hennite. With the six appendages they could walk flat on all six, or “stand” upright on two. The only ones Jakarta was familiar with were about two meters tall when standing upright. This one was not quite a meter and half if she had to guess.

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Tucker said, continuing to push forward despite her repeated attempts to shove him toward the hatch.

“I’d say it’s just a child,” she mused aloud, making the mistake of humanizing the thing. She felt a twinge of sympathy and let down her guard. It was easy to ignore the thing’s rifle still resting in the chair, or the message from the weapons console signaling the cannons were hot and ready for battle. As a child, this was no Hennite warrior, seeking honor in battle or trying to avenge some imagined slight from the humans of Durango. In her eyes, this creature was now an innocent, somehow forced to fight a conflict it could not yet understand.

The child was injured and regardless of its intentions, it required help. Since it came to them without firing, Jakarta could only assume it sought her out for that help. It could very well have been dangerous, but this child represented a chance to prove to the Humanists upstairs that she was not the cold-blooded killer they thought she was.

“Find me a board, something to strap him down so we can move him,” she instructed.

“If it’s a Hennite, shouldn’t we kill it? Won’t it try to kill us when it recovers?”

“I thought Colt taught you better ‘n that! If it were gonna try and hurt us, it would have fired on the station.”

“But --“

“But nothin’. Part o’ the reason they hate us is because they think that’s exactly how we are. We got a chance here to show them that’s not true. You got a real chance here to sow peace between our worlds and you want to throw that away because of some old prejudices.”

Tucker just looked at the creature, scratching his head over how they were going to demonstrate that peaceful intent. Hennites had no eyes to see, though they sensed their surroundings as clearly as if they had those eyes. And they had no mouth or ears for communication, yet they could pick up and interpret soundwaves as easily as the human ears and brain. It was a hard enough concept for Jakarta to grasp, and Tucker was just a boy still struggling with the calculus from his daily lessons.

“Maybe nothin’ comes of this,” she continued. “Maybe he ignores all of this when he goes back to his own kind or maybe he dies before we can help him, but just like those fools up there, I’m not lettin’ anyone define who I am. I’m not gonna be one way because that’s how everyone else is. I’m gonna do what I think is right. What he chooses to do with that is up to him, but at least I can say I tried. Do you get that?”

“I think so, Jackie,” he said. Her words almost filled him with a warm sense, as if his own heart wanted to embark on this mission of mercy. Without a second order, he ran off and returned with a piece of sheet metal and some straps. The thing was normally heavy, especially once the body was strapped to it, but with the usual procedures for these sorts of incidents aboard the depot, the weight would not be an issue.

Most of the supply depots were constructed with mechanical lifts in place of the ladder running up and down Depot-14. It was an option installed only at the discretion of the particular franchise, and most opted for it. Still, it was an expensive upgrade from the ladder, an upgrade neither Colton nor Jakarta felt necessary.

Whenever they needed to move something heavy through the station or they had a disabled passenger pass through, or (in rare cases) an injury required a person to be carried up to one of the cabins or down to the airlock for evacuation, the stationmasters would lower the gravity to render the individual weightless. It was not a perfect solution and it required a bit of preparation, but the pair had gone through it enough in their tenure where it was almost second nature. Even Tucker was familiar with the plan.

Jakarta left Tucker alone with the Hennite so that she could alert the protestors to what was coming. The thought amused her to leave them ignorant, imagining their surprise when the gravity failed beneath their feet and they went airborne as it were, but as business owners, there was a liability issue they could not escape. If someone somehow got hurt in that mess hall because she didn’t give the proper warning, those fools could turn around and sue her and Colton. The particular irony of those fools becoming the victims on that station with the mess they created was one of the few she did not find amusing.

“You’ll be happy to know I didn’t have to kill nobody,” she told the crowd of young people with a smile on her lips. “But I do have a medical emergency down there, and I need everyone’s cooperation.”

“We will never cooperate with a vigilante!”

“Stop killing babies, you baby-killer!”

Jakarta just shook her head over the complaints, continuing whether they heard her or not.

“All I need is for everyone to stay put while I move the patient. I’m gonna hafta drop the gravity to do it, so I want you all to know there’s gonna be nothin’ holdin’ you down for fifteen minutes or so.”

The clamor arose once more, but she ignored it, turning her back on it all and leaving them. With the emergency having not panned out, she didn’t bother engaging the security seals when she left. She thought it a mistake on her part, but in the back of her mind it would have validated their efforts if she sent that kind of signal that they were in fact disruptive. The most effective strategy against the Humanists was to simply ignore them. The only power they had over society came when people listened to them. When no one listened and their efforts earned them no reward, they eventually grew tired and gave up.

The problem they posed for the law and the government came about only because sympathetic lawmakers gave them the attention they craved. Lawmakers with weaker minds than the protestors caved over time, passing laws meant to address the concerns and desires of the group. Those were lawmakers seeking the Humanists as a voting bloc, yet they were too foolish to see that the Humanists rarely voted – those protestors had no effect at the polls, and that was one reason why politicians sympathetic to the Humanists rarely won second terms.

Jakarta’s strategy was to have fun with these “kids” while they were around. If it weren’t for the Hennite, she might have stuck around longer.

When she returned to the ship, Tucker already had the creature on the sheet and strapped in. The young Hennite was a bit more active and thrashing against the bindings, frightening Jakarta’s young sidekick.

“I know you can understand me,” she said to the creature. “We’re not tryin’ to hurt you. You came to us for help, and that’s what we’re doin’. Tucker only strapped you down so we can move you. As soon as we get you upstairs, I’ll untie you, I promise.”

From the creature’s struggles, it either didn’t understand or didn’t believe…likely the latter. Despite the image of the savage Hennite popular among the people of Durango, and despite their simplistic anatomy, the species was highly intelligent. Most learned the human language so that they could work with the human equipment pirated over the centuries – mostly human ships and weapons. Though they could not speak, they could write the language as if they were human. Jakarta doubted this child approached a human space station for assistance if it lacked the ability to communicate its needs.

For all its fright though, Tucker had strapped the Hennite in tight. The two humans each took an end of the makeshift stretcher and carried it back toward the airlock where they used the ship’s small lift to raise the creature up into their station. Jakarta then pointed to the control console across the cargo bay with instructions for the boy.

“Go on and drop the gravity,” she instructed, adding a warning as he was off. “And remember, slow this time.”

The boy raised a sheepish grin as he reached the console, remembering the mishap from the last time his brother let him carry out the action. Without the gravity, nothing held the thousands of objects in place around the station. Without that force, everything in the cargo bay was free to leave the berths and drift about, making for one heck of a mess when all was done. Of course, in order for all those supplies to begin their wayward journeys, a force was required to nudge them. When the gravity fell all at once, the sudden loss of that force by itself created a counter force, giving everything on the station just enough of a push to begin the movement. By lowering the gravity slow and gradual, that counterforce was so negligible that only a few objects were disturbed and the cleanup was minimal.

It would be almost five minutes before gravity reached zero; five minutes Jakarta had to figure out what kind of help this child needed, and more importantly, how to administer it. The Hennites were a completely alien lifeform, not just in appearance, but in basic cellular structure. They were neither animal nor plant. The individual cells were massive and the young woman wasn’t certain human medicine could treat them. After all, could a dermal patch bridge the space between those cells as efficiently as if they were the microscopic, human cells in an ordinary arm?

What also required consideration was whether or not the missing limb was a problem in and of itself. Jakarta knew there were those more experienced in Hennite physiology (since she knew next to nothing, that wouldn’t be much to say), those who might tell her if the missing appendage left a hole in the body that required patching as it does when it’s a human arm severed. With the cells so massive, and the Hennite body containing none of the complex circulatory, musculatory, or other human-like systems, it was entirely possible there was nothing to patch, that it was no more traumatic to the body than the loss of an arm for a starfish.

She might have called for help. Policy dictated she contact the Central Office immediately for any ship arriving as that raider had. Since the “pilot” required medical attention, they would have a medical shuttle docked with the underside within an hour so that the injured could receive proper care.

Yet there was a greater problem which troubled Jakarta more than medical issue. Policy regarding Hennites differed greatly from those concerning human ships. It was unheard of for Hennite ships to dock with the supply depots seeking help as the raider had. Since they were not part of the greater Republic, their treatment was dictated by the hundreds of treaties in existence between the two species. To contact the office as company policy required, meant the first call from the Central Office would be to the Army. She was required to turn the child over to them, and in their custody, there was no telling what might happen. Though the Army usually returned these creatures back to the planet Hen, attitudes were similar to that of Tucker’s when he realized what that creature was. Jakarta knew there was a better than even chance he would not get medical care in their custody, and that he could very well die before reuniting with his people.

Chapter 3

Jakarta had an easy time moving the weightless Hennite up through the cargo bay and into the access shaft for the flight upward. As soon as she reached the mess level, she realized how much of a mistake it was not to seal the protestors inside.

Left alone, they were happy to be disruptive. To them, it mattered not that there was no audience to disrupt. The disruption to the room was satisfaction enough. But when Jakarta and Tucker entered their focus once more, a few were too curious to remain put. They floated across to the egress and peered inside at the activity.

“Those lives you took counted!” a young man shouted, but she was in no mood to satisfy their complaints.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m a horrible person.”

Before she could say something witty, a young woman caught sight of the Hennite and screamed.

“What is that?”

The others shut out their manufactured outrage long enough to study the injured creature. Most were like that young woman, having lived lives too sheltered to recognize a life form that wasn’t of human origin, but there was someone who recognized it. Maybe they had an ancestor who fought in the old wars, leaving behind a legacy of nothing but pictures of the carnage humans once brought to their world. Or maybe they watched some newsfeed featuring a reporter that tried to sneak onto the planet Hen for a story trying to drum up sympathy for a race that would set fire to the entire world of Durango if it could.

“Is that a Hennite?!”

It was doubtful these people believed any news story that tried to elicit sympathy, if their reactions were any indication.

“Kill it!” One of them shouted.

“I heard they’re not even animals!” another screamed in outrage.

Jakarta was too disgusted at what she heard. Their reactions were far worse than what Tucker’s had been. At least the boy had the sense to listen to reason. The young people about to overrun her were so closed minded, she could not have convinced them Durango was round if they were so inclined to believe it were flat.

“I thought lives counted,” she snapped at them, pushing the sled upward so that it might rise out of their reach. At least if it took effort to reach it, these young kids might abandon their efforts.

Human lives,” one of them answered.

“That Hennite is every bit as sentient as we are,” she tried to tell them. “You’re telling me it doesn’t deserve the same respect? To be treated with dignity?”

“That is deeply offensive,” one young man snapped with a growing anger. “How could you understand the plight of those whose rights we’re trying to protect? You can’t even compare what those people have been through to that thing!”

“Those people you claim to stand for? Yeah, I can relate,” she finally snapped. “I was one of them, growin’ up in a tenement down in Westcott. I ran with some bad crowds before I was legal, and the only break I ever got in life was when I met Colton. If he judged me and pulled his hand back in repulsion instead of offerin’ it in friendship, I might have fallen into a life a crime and run afoul of the local constable.

“I had a lot of friends who weren’t so lucky. I have brothers and sisters who got themselves in trouble and can never seem to get out of it. I was right in the middle of that cesspool, so don’t talk to me about who understands what, because it is you spoiled brats who don’t understand what help those unfortunate people really need.

“And as for this Hennite, well I still have my rifle, so I dare any of you to try and lay a finger on it. Yeah, I’ve gone up against them too. I know how dangerous they are, but this particular Hennite didn’t do anythin’ to me. I’m willin’ to give it the benefit of the doubt until I have reason not to!”

Without giving them another chance to respond, she floated upward to meet with Tucker who already had the injured creature past the gym and on the way to the passenger cabins. When the boy stopped the climb to move him to that level, Jakarta called up to him.

“Not in there. Take him to my cabin.”


“Because I’m not givin’ those fools a chance to kill him.”

“You really think they will?” he asked, finding the attitude as hard to believe as she did.

“I don’t know. When you get a bunch of people together and they get real heated like they are, sometimes civilized rules get thrown out. Sometimes the very people arguin’ for peace and civility are the ones who can pick up a gun and blindly take a life in rage. I don’t wanna take any chances, and the maintenance level should put enough distance between them and him.”

It didn’t take much longer to climb the extra two levels and slide him into Jakarta’s cabin, but once he was flat on the bed, she sent Tucker outside to bring the gravity back online. Like before, the process had to go slow. It wasn’t the risk of cargo flying away from its berth, but rather the sudden drop of that same cargo should it have lifted from the floor. If there was a pan floating around in the kitchen for example, it might come crashing down on someone’s head if the gravity were restored all at once. A gradual increase would ease that pan down to the floor and limit any pain it might cause on the way.

While Tucker was at work with the controls, Jakarta took the opportunity to talk with her patient.

“In a couple minutes when the gravity’s back online, I’m gonna untie you. I’m not gonna hurt you, I just wanna look at that missin’ leg and see if there’s anythin’ I can do about it.”

Then she pulled the rifle forward on her shoulder to show it to the young alien.

“I really don’t wanna use this any more than you want me to use it, so you just take it easy and don’t try anythin’.”

As she returned the weapon to her back, her eyes fell on a tablet on the nightstand. Usually for reading on the nights when she struggled with sleep, she figured it would be a useful tool once the boy was free again.

When the gravity was strong enough for her liking, Jakarta unbound one of the sets of limbs, waiting to judge the reaction.

“Just like I told you,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

On that, the freed limbs lashed out briefly toward her. With the rest of the body still strapped to that metal sheet, there wasn’t much the creature could do. Its efforts fell still soon after they began.

“Did you get it all outa you?” she asked with a smile. “You ready for me to untie the rest of you?”

She reached down once more, studying the creature for signs of further struggle, but it offered none. It allowed her to untie the remaining straps, and it lay still, looking at her as if it had a real head with real eyes. The young woman silently admitted it was creepy, yet it helped her sympathize with it as if she could see and sense the sadness coming from it. The thing might have been like most simple animals in that respect, taking on human characteristics that weren’t there in order to make some sense of its otherwise confusing behavior. Whatever the creature was or wasn’t feeling, there was enough truth to be discerned from its stillness.

Jakarta took up the tablet and, opening a word processing application, she handed it to the creature, just as Tucker returned to the room to witness this feat.

“You can use this to tell us what is on your mind. I’d start with who you are and why you picked our little supply depot to visit…but that’s just me.”

The little Hennite just seemed to watch her while she poured through the medical kit, considering which treatments might work on a species that was neither human nor animal. When it got no further attention from the human woman, it took up the tablet with one of its appendages and typed away on the screen with another. The thing didn’t have proper fingers at the ends of those appendages, but the handicap did not limit the effort.

“I did not come here,” it typed. “The ship brought me.”

Jakarta read it over before returning to her work. She settled on an ointment that was designed to strengthen cellular walls and aid in recovery. She wasn’t sure if it would work on the Hennite’s alien cells, but it was the best she had. Things like the antibacterials left her terrified in case those cells were closer to something bacterial or viral than human, in which case the particular treatment might cause more harm.

“You’re telling me your kind programs your ships with an autopilot that takes you to our stations when you’re in trouble? Doesn’t seem very smart. What if it takes you to that army base on your moon?”

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